


the writing on the wall

by Dabberdees



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Delves into the wanted aspect of the fam and the fallout of that, Fam Angst, Gen, Heavy Angst, Injury Recovery, Life-changing injury, Spyfall spinoff, The Doctor messes up and gets another hurt, as a whole
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-11
Updated: 2020-09-08
Packaged: 2021-02-27 11:41:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 17,726
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22216474
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dabberdees/pseuds/Dabberdees
Summary: With the number of bullets flying past them, bouncing off handlebars, it's a surprise that no one was shot...
Relationships: Thirteenth Doctor & Yasmin Khan & Graham O'Brien & Ryan Sinclair, Yasmin Khan & Graham O'Brien & Ryan Sinclair
Comments: 32
Kudos: 39





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is an AU spinning off from Spyfall and then series twelve as a whole, it'll still have the same beats and points, but there is a major difference.

“Go, go, go,” Ryan tightens his hands around Graham's waist. "He's getting away, Graham."

“I’m going as fast as I can,” Graham shouts back, his eyes remain locked on the dirt path. “Travel with the Doc; it would be fun they said-” He grumbles under his breath. "It ain't fun."

He glances to his right, catching Yaz’s eyes and then O’s, before looking forward again and back to Daniel Barton’s car which is now picking up speed.

“He’s getting-” The Doctor shouts, the ending part of her sentence being cut off to Graham over the roar of the engines. “Hurry-”

Graham follows her order, squeezing the throttle down as much as he can, urging the bike to go faster. Yaz to his left does the same, both of them keeping level as they race behind the Doctor.

“He’s gonna get away, Gramps,” Ryan says, voice rising above the engine. "We gotta stop him."

“He ain’t gonna get away, son,” Graham replies. “Trust in the Doc-” He cuts himself off when he catches the Doctor ducking down in front. He frowns and goes to speak again, only to stop when he hears the whizzing of bullets hitting metal and then pinging off it.

“Hey, it's Barton, he's shooting at us, Graham,”

“Yes, thanks, I got that,” Graham snaps, worry flaring for Ryan. Grace told him to keep the lad safe, and here he is driving them towards the gunfire. Since when did travelling with the Doctor lead to this?

Graham's thoughts get pulled away when he feels Ryan flinch from behind as a bullet flies past them. The younger man's hands grip tightly around him.

But that was all to close in Graham’s opinion, and he has half a mind to brake, cease this, but he doesn’t. If the Doc and Yaz aren’t going to stop, then he won’t as well, even if it is against his better judgement. They continue on, Graham counting bullets like he knows how many would even be in a chamber in the first place. Was it seven fired or eight? Regardless, each one fired feels like it’s closer than the last. They whip past, sparks flying when they connect against metal.

And his nerves are on edge, but he drives on, Barton will run out soon, he has too. That’s the only thought running through Graham’s mind. He’ll run out; he has to run out, please let him run out, it isn’t some future laser pistol it’s just a standard _gun_ -

Graham swears and grimaces, hands seizing on the handles when fire rips through the upper part of his left arm, hot and painful, quick and aggressive. The bike swerves, and Graham struggles to control it, but he gets it back, chest heaving with rapid breaths, neck burning up in a panic. He’s been shot. He doesn’t need a Doctor to tell him that. There's burning in his left arm, aching and deep-

“Gramps?” Ryan yells, worry filling his voice. “What was that?”

“A rock,” Graham grunts out, feeling sick. Liquid runs down his arm, drenching his Tuxedo sleeve and shirt while his face twists in pain. Ryan doesn’t know, the black of the suit covering the bleeding, thankfully. If he did, he’d only worry-

“Barton’s turning,” Ryan says, quickly, his arm shooting out in Graham’s peripheral vision.

Graham slows the bike, turning it and heading up one of the clearings in the vineyard after Yaz and the Doctor. The motion pulls against his left arm, and he grips the handle tightly, jaw clenched. Can't let Ryan know, he'll only panic-

The bullets whiz past again, clinking off handlebars in sparks once again, making both Graham and Ryan flinch, the latter holding on tighter, unaware of the injury to Graham. “Look,” Ryan yells. “He’s coming up to an airport.”

Graham doesn’t reply, not that he could with how tight he’s biting down, anything to stop the swearing he wants to do. He focuses ahead, noticing that Yaz and the Doctor are slowing down, further ahead, the car that Barton is in vanishes into a hanger, the large doors closing behind him.

“What do we do now?” Yaz asks, just as Graham pulls up, head lowering while he catches his breath. "We can't let him escape."

“We follow him,” The Doctor answers, hopping from the bike and throwing her helmet down upon the ground without a care. “Come on, gang.” She says, turning to run towards the hanger.

Graham spots Yaz and O getting off their bike and running after her. Ryan follows them, sliding off the back of his. “Come on, Graham; we gotta stop, Barton,” Ryan says, eyes locking on the guys up front.

“Yeah,” Graham murmurs, climbing off while Ryan runs ahead, giving time for Graham to bring his right hand up. He holds it against the tingling pain, pulling it away and finding it slick with red. He wipes it down the front of his jacket and ambles after the others.

“I’ll get this door open in a jiffy,” The Doctor says on Graham’s approach. The older man stands behind them, brow covered in sweat from the heat and throbbing wound.

“Then what?” O asks.

“Mhm?”

“Barton is obviously getting onto a plane, Doctor,” O presses on. “How are we going to stop him?”

“We’ll cross that bridge when we get there,” The Doctor replies, finishing with the door and placing her sonic back. She edges in, hand raised and shushing them all.

They move slowly, using the light planes in the hanger as cover. The Doctor in the front, Yaz next, then Ryan, and finally O and Graham trailing behind.

O glances back to Graham. “Is she always like this?” He asks, voice hushed.

Graham flicks his eyes up to O. He smiles briefly, but not convincingly in his opinion because O narrows his eyes at him, mouth opening to say something else and stopping when the Ryan speaks.

“How many planes does one guy need?”

“Too many,” Yaz responds.

The Doctor pauses, head ducking around one of the light aircraft. “There he is.” She ducks to the next plane, everyone else trailing after her. Graham settles himself at the back of the group and leans against the white aircraft, breathing slowly.

“That’s one big plane,” Ryan points out.

“Where’s he going in that?”

“I don’t know, Yaz, but we can’t let him get away-”

O glances to Graham once again before facing the Doctor. “How? It’s not as if we’re gonna jump on the plane with him, is it?”

The Doctor looks to O, head giving him a swift nod. “Yup, took the plan right out of my head O, good man.”

“Oh, come on-”

“Exactly that,” The Doctor says, grinning at her joke before turning around to sprint across the tarmac and towards the plane.

Graham watches her go, and then the others before pushing himself away from the plane, leaving a red stain in his wake. He stares ahead, watching as the Doctor opens the back hatch to climb in. Yaz reaches the hatch next, climbing up and turning to pull Ryan up and then O. “Come on, Graham-” She calls out to him. "You're nearly here."

Graham pushes himself, face paling and legs becoming like jelly, but he reaches the plane in time. Yaz and the Doctor lean down to yank him up, their hands pulling him up by his upper arms. He can’t help the yelp of pain that escapes from him the moment Yaz wraps her hands around his left arm.

“Graham-” She says, eyes going wide she feels the wetness across his sleeve. “Oh my days, Doctor-”

“In a minute, Yaz, I need to get the door-”

“Doctor, _no_ ,” Yaz yells again, hand reaching out and grabbing at the Doctor. “He’s been shot,” She lifts her hand, showing the red spread across it. "He's hurt."

The Doctor’s eyes widen, she quickly finishes with the hatch before kneeling down to face Graham. He stares up at her, face grim. “Why didn’t you say anything, Graham?”

Graham looks around at their faces. Yaz is staring at her hand, Ryan looks scared, and he hates that, _O_ , Graham frowns, O, _well_ he seems frustrated. He focuses back onto the Doctor again. “You rushed off,” He murmurs, pain in his arm coming stronger now that his adrenaline is fading. "We need to stop Barton."

“That’s no excuse, Graham,” The Doctor admonishes. “And you know it.”

“That wasn’t a rock, was it?” Ryan says. "Back when we were on the bike, it weren't a rock."

“A rock?” Yaz questions, coming out of her shock.

“The bike wobbled for a moment. I thought he lost control and I asked, but he said it was just a rock.”

“Doesn’t matter now,” The Doctor says, voice as gentle as it can be given the circumstances. “Someone help me take Graham to the cabin, I need to take a look at his arm, disinfect it, can't leave it like that.”

Yaz nods and approaches Graham’s left side again, helping the Doctor pull him up, but being careful to avoid hurting him any more than he already is.

They walk together and enter the cabin. The Doctor walks down the aisle and lowers Graham into one of the seats upfront. “Ryan, can you find some alcohol?" She asks, glancing up at him. "The stronger, the better, there should be something on a plane like this.” Ryan nods and rushes off while the Doctor helps Graham remove the black blazer. "You should have said something, Graham." She says again. "If I knew I wouldn't have got us on the plane."

Graham decides not to answer, knowing that she's right and that he was reckless. Sort of, the entire thing was reckless thinking about it, none of them expected to be shot at and the moment they were, they should've stopped. Graham grunts, teeth grinding as he sucks in a pained breath when the Doctor finally removes his jacket, he doesn't look, but judging by the Doctor's face, it's grim.

“Oh, Graham,”

The extent of his injury becomes apparent, showing it to everyone in the cabin once the jacket is thrown to the side. His white sleeved drenched in bright red and torn where the bullet embedded itself into his arm. The Doctor exhales, and she rips it away, discarding it to the floor along with the jacket. She stares at the bullet wound in Graham’s upper arm. "I'm sorry, Graham," She murmurs when she lifts his arm up, something that causes Graham to call out in pain.

"Doctor?" Yaz kneels down. "What are you doing?"

"Seeing if the bullet exited-"

"And has it?"

The Doctor glances towards Yaz and shakes her head. She gently lowers Graham's arm again. "He needs surgery."

“Doctor,” Ryan says, dragging the attention to him. “I got something, uh," He looks at it, reading. "It's whiskey; I couldn’t find vodka.”

“Whiskey is good, Ryan, pass it here,” The Doctor orders, accepting it as soon as Ryan hands it over. “This is going to sting, Graham.”

“It’s not a walk... in a park right now, can't see... how it's gonna get... worse,” Graham mutters, through breaths. “But, go ahead,”

The Doctor offers a weak smile as she uncaps the whiskey. The smile disappears just as quickly when she pours it over the gash. Graham inhales sharply, right hand clenching in pain at the stinging. “You’re doing great, Graham,” She soothes. “Nearly done.”

Graham presses his head to the back of the seat, chest rising and falling with gasps. She wasn’t lying when she said it would hurt. “I could probably... do with a drink, you know,” He says, trying to break the ice and only partially succeeding when he gets slight smiles back. "Whiskey sounds good... right about now."

“It's done, Graham,” The Doctor says, leaning back and dropping the small empty bottle. “Now I should have something to bandage it in my-" She trails away, realising that she's not in her grey coat. She looks around, trying to find anything that could work. "Yaz," She says, hand pointing to the white VOR headrest covers. "That'll have to do for the time being," Yaz nods, grabbing a bunch and handing them over. She gets to work, wrapping them around Graham's arm in a makeshift bandage. "Now, Graham, I won’t be able to get the bullet out until we’re back in the TARDIS, all right?”

Graham nods, eyes closing briefly while he calms his raging breaths.

The Doctor returns Graham's nod before standing up and looking over them all. “No one else is injured?” Ryan and Yaz both shake their heads, and she turns to O next. “O?”

O cocks his head to the side, face switching expressions to something cold. “You always were so caring, Doctor,” He says. “Doesn’t seem like that has changed at all.”

The Doctor frowns, confusion seeping onto her face. “What are you talking about?”

“I’m surprised you didn’t figure it out,” O continues. “You know, I had this grand plan where I would let you figure it out, but then your new pet went and got himself shot, Barton's actions really threw my plans off, I'll be having words with him about that.”

“Pet?” Ryan repeats, offended on Graham’s behalf. "What are you chatting on about, mate?"

The Doctor, on the other hand, her face changes from confused to horrified. “I don't follow; you can't-”

“Yes, Doctor, it can,” O says, smirking. “See, you looked for the spymaster when you really should’ve looked for the spy _Master_.” The emphasis on Master strikes the Doctor full force in her chest. He waves and then clicks his fingers, summoning two of the glowing white creatures. “I control Barton, and I control them, we have a-” His hand gestures. "Arrangement so to speak."

“Doctor, what is going on?” Yaz asks, eyes darting between them and finding her heart thumping when she looks at the glowing creatures. "Doctor?"

“Take a look outside,” O says, looking at her. She clambers past Graham, eyes widening when she spots O's shack flying alongside Barton’s plane. “It’s a shame that you’re all about to die,” He states. “Your wound will be the least of your worries soon enough, old man.” The Doctor focuses back onto O again, and he turns to face her. “Check the cockpit, Doctor, got a present in there for you.”

The Doctor spins and rushes towards it, pulling the door open and staring at the ticking bomb, eyes noticing it counting down from ten. She whips her sonic out and presses it against the deadly device, yelling out in frustration when it does nothing. She turns and sprints back into the cabin, quickly slamming the door shut before being pushed backwards by the coming explosion.

Their ears ring from the blast as wind whips through the cabin. The Doctor shakes her head, trying to clear it just as O kneels down to her. “Everything you think you know is a lie, Doctor,” Before he pulls out a device, hand slamming down on it and vanishing from view.

Graham stares at her. “Doc-”

The Doctor looks to Graham and then to the creatures when they speed towards her, overcoming her and transporting her from the plane and from them. They stare where she was, fear running through them all. They’re in a crashing plane, no hope for rescue, each one of them knowing that this is it, that _nothing_ , unless it’s a miracle or divine intervention, could save them from their fate.

Graham can’t help but think about what the Master said. “Your wound will be the least of your worries soon enough, old man.” At least he never lied about that.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so, this was going to be a angst series but I've been thinking about this over the last few days
> 
> and i kinda thought what if one of them got shot and couldn't receive help for days? it wouldn't be good for them and then it just sorta steamrolled into a AU of sorts.

"What the hell do we do?" Ryan bellows over the rushing wind in the cabin. "We're going to-"

"Not die," Comes a voice from one of the screens flashing on. "You need to follow what I say without questions," Yaz stares at the screen with hope blooming in her chest when she recognises the figure. "First things first, the cockpit door needs to be closed-"

"On it," Yaz says with a nod to Ryan. "Do whatever the Doctor says next-"

"Right."

"Next, I'm going to need you to connect your phone to the plane," Her eyes on the screen flick downwards. "There is a panel on the floor, can't miss it-"

Ryan follows her eye line and spots the panel. He hops down and follows the command with haste. It takes a moment before he manages to slot the cable in. "What now?"

"Use the app and level out the plane," The Doctor instructs. "You'll then be taken to an airport from it's preprogrammed route."

Ryan frowns, mouth opening to ask about the app and closing when he spots it loading up. "Yaz, you got the door?"

"Yeah," Yaz replies, breathless. "You know what you need to do?"

Ryan nods and begins to level the plane out. He looks up to the screen once more. "Where are you, Doctor?"

"Can't talk now, from what I know the power is about to be cut to the-"

The screen fades to black leaving them without the aid of their friend.

"Great," Ryan mutters before turning his attention to Graham. "Gramps?" Graham slowly looks at Ryan, face pale. "How are you doing?"

"Would you-" Graham swallows and knits his brows together. "-believe me if I lied?"

"No," Ryan states. "Yaz, take over," He forces his phone into her hands and makes his way over to Graham. He looks at his arm and notices red beginning to seep into the headrests wrapped around. "We need to get him to a hospital."

"The plane is rerouting, Ryan," Yaz reveals. "We're descending."

"Good," Ryan rubs a hand down his face before clapping Graham on his knee. "We'll get you help-"

"What about Barton?" Graham murmurs. "We still need to-"

"No," Ryan interjects with a shake of his head. "I don't care about him-"

"Son-"

"Graham," Ryan stares directly into Graham's eyes. "You've been shot; you're more important to me right now."

Graham stares back. "Okay."

"Guys," Yaz calls out. "We're being diverted to the UK-" She gestures the phone out. "Essex to be precise."

"My manor," Graham mumbles. "Which airport?"

"Southend."

"Do you know the nearest hospital, Graham?"

Graham's mind blanks, eyes flicking around like he's searching for the location written on the walls. "I don't know-"

"You said it was your manor?"

"I don't," Graham's breath hitches in panic. "I don't know, I should know-"

"Ryan," Yaz places the phone on the floor and makes her way over to her friends. "He's in shock-"

"He was talking-"

"He was," Yaz agrees. "But he's been shot, and his adrenaline has probably faded by now, he's not thinking correctly."

"So, what do we do, then?"

Yaz chews the inside of her mouth as she thinks. "We trust the Doctor-"

"She ain't here-"

"But she's alive because how else would she have recorded that message, Ryan?" Yaz points out. "Somehow, and I don't know how she did it, she's escaped from those things-"

"They took her like they took you."

"And yet she's escaped," Yaz says. "I've seen that place," Her eyes flick away as a chill runs through her. "If she has lost them, then we have to have faith in her."

Ryan stares at her for a moment before nodding. "Fine," He settles. "First thing first is getting off this plane and getting Graham help-"

"Agreed," Yaz nods back. "We're landing soon; we just have to keep Graham comfortable until then."

"You hear that, gramps?" Ryan smiles, forcing bravery to the forefront. "We'll have you sorted out in no time at all."

Graham nods because that's all he can do. Words fail him; they refuse to come to his lips. He looks around instead, focusing on the space around and the smell.

Burnt plastic and smoke.

Why?

His eyes land on the cockpit door. Blackened and twisted.

Oh, yeah.

_ Explosion _ .

Ryan's face swims in his vision, and he feels the hand placed on his knee. He glances down, and for a second, he wishes he didn't when the world spins. He closes his eyes instead because that's bet-

"Graham,"

There's an annoying tap on his face and he groans. "What?"

"You can't sleep."

"Wasn't," Graham grunts, finding a word after a moment of thought. He reluctantly keeps his eyes open. Oh, he feels sick. Horrid. Stuck in the back of his throat. He tries to lift his arm and only stops when pain shoots through it.

"What are you doing?" Ryan barks, loud. "You can't move your arm-"

Graham's eyes travel to Ryan's face. "Can't-" He panics, brows creasing ever together.

"You can't what?"

"Sick," Graham pants. "I feel sick."

Yaz shoves Ryan aside. "Hey, what are you doing?"

"He can't breathe very well with that bowtie on," Yaz snaps. "And I have an idea because he's still bleeding-"

"What idea?"

Yaz roughly undoes Graham's bowtie along with the top buttons of his ruined shirt. "Tourniquet, Ryan." She wraps it around Graham's arm, moving it upwards, so it's tight around the shoulder and armpit.

"Will it work?"

"Do you have a better idea?" Yaz retorts. "He's lost blood, Ryan," She keeps her blood-stained hands as steady as they can be. "He shouldn't have ran-"

"Don't argue," Graham mutters. "Not over me."

"We're not," Yaz reassures in a soothing tone. "Do you still feel sick?"

Graham lazily glances towards Yaz. "Maybe, but it's better now."

Yaz forces a smile at Graham, and she pats him gently on his right arm before turning to face Ryan. "Check the phone-"

"I want to-"

"Ryan, no offence here, but do you have a first-aid certificate?" 

Ryan relents grudgingly and heads over to the phone. "What do you want to know?"

"How close we are to landing for one thing," Yaz responds all too quickly. "And how we're getting off this plane for another."

"I think we're coming in now-"

"Landing?"

"I don't know," Ryan answers. "I need to see where the nearest hospital is, but-" He gestures the phone. "-I can't-"

"Use mine," Yaz fishes her phone out from his jacket. She quickly enters her password and throws it to Ryan.

Ryan aces the catch and quickly brings up the needed app. He types in his search and exhales with relief when the hospital flashes up. "There's one a stone's throw away from the airport," He frowns. "It's a university one, but it says emergencies-"

"It'll do," Yaz decides. "We just have to get off the plane and then get to the hospital without people seeing us-" She grimaces. "-which will be hard considering the blood."

Ryan locks his eyes with Yaz, sharing a quiet conversation with her before shuffling back over to Graham. "It won't be long now, gramps."

"Heard you two," Graham mumbles. "Need my jacket."

"Eh?"

"Jacket," Graham looks towards the discarded item of clothing. "Else people will look."

"Yeah," Ryan nods, and he scoops the jacket up. His hands rest on the drying blood, and he hesitates. "You should've said-"

"Hindsight is twenty-twenty, Ryan," Yaz counters with a sigh. "There was a lot of things we should've done, but we didn't-"

"And Graham got shot because of it."

"Any one of us could've got shot," Yaz points out. Her eyes flick to Graham's paled face. His hair is unkempt and slick to his skin. "They'll ask questions."

"Let them."

"Ryan," Yaz turns towards him. "People don't just get shot here and not like this-" She gestures to the garments that they're wearing. "-people will ask questions, police will be called-"

"He still needs to go to the hospital-"

"I'm not saying he doesn't."

"So, what are you saying?"

Yaz pinches the bridge of her nose. "I don't know, this- this is the first time that any one of us has been hurt like this, and it happened on Earth-"

"It has something to do with O-" Ryan spits. "It was his plan, and what was that all about? How the hell does the Doctor know him, and why does she know him?"

"That's questions we can ask her when we next see her," Yaz hopes. "We have to-" She trails away when the plane shudders. "I think we're landing now," She turns towards Ryan's discarded phone and grabs it. "Yeah-"

"Okay," Ryan breathes out and faces Graham once more. "Can you sit up?"

Graham tries pushing himself up with his right arm. "I need help-"

Ryan aids his grandad, and together they have him sitting up, panting, but sitting up nonetheless. Ryan drapes the jacket over Graham's shoulders and turns to Yaz again just as there's a jolt through the plane.

"We need to move," Yaz stands and unplugs Ryan's phone. She makes her way back over to her friends. "We'll have to walk with him-"

"You need me to stand," Graham concludes. "You'll have to help me up-"

Ryan and Yaz nod and begin to lift Graham from the seat. Ryan takes his left side, and Yaz takes his right as they lead him down the aisle and towards the back of the plane again.

"Can you open the doors?" Ryan questions Yaz.

"I watched the Doctor do it," Yaz nods. "It's just a button-"

"Good," Ryan grunts. "Go on ahead; I can walk with Graham-"

"Sure?"

"Yeah," Ryan confirms. "We need those doors open before we get there, less chance of us getting spotted then-"

"Good point," Yaz lets Graham go and rushes towards the back of the plane. She locates the button needed and presses it down. She blinks when daylight hits her face painfully before looking outside and noticing that the plane has slowed enough for them to jump off.

Which isn't ideal considering Graham's state, but what choice do they have?

"You got it then-"

Yaz turns and faces Ryan and Graham. "The plane is still moving; we could jump now-"

"Graham-"

"I know, Ryan," Yaz rubs a hand down her face. "It's your call."

Ryan considers the options. "We wait," He decides. "Then we move as fast as we can, all right?"

"All right."

Ryan turns her attention to Graham now. "Did you get that?"

Graham nods while his face remains twisted in pain. Truth be told, he's not sure what they're planning to do, it's been hard to follow what has been happening.

And he should be worried about that, but he's tired, and he just wants to sit down again.

To  _ rest _ .


	3. Chapter 3

"In here, quick," Yaz waves Ryan over. She shoves the door open and holds it until he's through the threshold.

Ryan gently leans Graham against the hanger wall. "Anyone coming this way?"

"People are moving outside now," Yaz glances through the crack that she left in the door. "Probably wondering where the plane came from and why it has no one in it."

"Not our problem," Ryan states. "Do we wait or what?" He watches Graham standing unsteadily on his feet. "He's lost a lot of blood-"

Yaz looks back as well. "The bleeding has slowed for now at least."

"Not long now, gramps," Ryan reassures. "Before you know it you'll be having you're afternoon cuppa in front of the TV," He rests his hand on Graham's right arm, concern flashing across his face when the man doesn't respond. "Graham?"

"Mhm?"

"You had me worried there."

"Shouldn't worry," Graham slurs. "Tired."

"I know," Ryan soothes. "We need to move, Yaz."

Yaz nods and begins to move from the door only to pause. She raises her hand to Ryan and motions for him to be quiet.

"Yaz-"

"Shh," Yaz shakes her head and nods towards the crack in the door.

Ryan frowns and reluctantly moves away from Graham. He peeks through the gap above Yaz's head and glares at the man making his way over to one of the airport workers. "Barton," He grunts under his breath. "What's he doing? And how did he get here so quick?"

"I don't know," Yaz replies in a hushed tone. "Back up-"

"What?"

Yaz turns and shoves Ryan back and behind the crack. She places her finger against her lip and shakes her head again before turning to Graham and doing the same. Graham stares at her, brows furrowed in confusion. She tries again, hoping that he'll get the hint.

With an exhale of breath, she edges back towards the gap as quiet as she can. Ryan mirrors her actions on the other side, and soon enough, they have their ears pressed as close to the crack that they can be without being seen.

"We've had this-"

"Yes," Barton's voice cuts the man off. "Was there anyone on board?"

"No, but sir-" The flustered man begins. "-we have to be informed if you're going to test these sort of systems," There's a pause where Ryan and Yaz lock eyes before flicking them back to the door when the unknown man speaks again. "I have some tricky smoothing over to do with the Civil Aviation Authority."

"You do that then," Barton grunts just as one set of footsteps lead away from the hanger. It's a few more moments before they hear Barton speak. "I need tracking intel on three people-"

Pause.

"As soon as you bloody can, when I say I want it, I want it," Barton snaps. "They'll be easy to find," Ryan looks beyond Yaz and focuses on Graham. "I have it on good authority that one are them has been injured, so you can check the hospitals as well-"

Ryan's fingers dig into his palm, and it takes a warning glance from Yaz to calm his shuffling and huffing.

"Their names are Ryan Sinclair, Yasmin Khan, and Graham O'Brien," Barton continues, voice now drifting further away from them. "It's the latter one that you-" His sentence trails off along with his footsteps.

"Shit," Ryan spits. "I didn't think-"

"We can't go to a hospital," Yaz concludes with dread and fear. "He'll track us-"

Ryan runs his hands down his face before fixating his eyes back onto Graham. "He needs help, Yaz, more help than we can give him-"

"But the moment we step into an A&E department, Barton will know."

"What the hell do we do, then?"

Yaz thinks and thinks. "We need to get somewhere safe," She glances to Graham whose focus is aimed downwards. "And we need to get stuff to treat Graham-"

"We're not doctors-"

"No, but if we can keep him stable enough until the Doctor gets back then maybe that will be enough."

"And if it isn't?"

"Then we'll cross that bridge when we come to it."

\----

Moving through the streets of Essex with an injured man proved to be as challenging as they expected, but they kept there heads down, hid as much blood from view as they could and smiled and offered simple-

_ 'He's had a bit too much to drink on a night out-' _

And-

_ 'He's not as young as he used to be.' _

And people seemed to buy it at least.

Hopefully.

Which is all Yaz can hope for as she makes her back towards the high street they shied away from before. The decision about who should go and get supplies was made before Yaz even voiced the question.

Ryan would stay with his grandad, and Yaz, well, she's the one who blends in the most at the moment. A smart jacket and shirt are easier to hide and are less noticeable than a full-blown tux.

Yaz flicks her eyes up and down the street, searching for a pharmacy or something like one. She exhales with relief when she spots a  _ Superdrug  _ just over the road. She jogs over and wastes no time in entering, proceeding straight towards the first aid supplies as quickly as she can.

The quicker she does this, the faster she can get back and offer some form of comfort to her friend. She grabs alcohol wipes, bandages, anything that she could need that is filed away in her head from her first aid training.

When she has everything she moves, agile, only stopping to grab water bottles along the way.

The checkout girl thankfully doesn't seem phased by the items which Yaz is grateful for. There's no small talk, and she pays with the loose cash they had on them before throwing everything into a bag and leaving just as quick as she arrived.

Yaz jogs back across the road again and begins weaving through the crowd once more. They part for her until they don't. The crowd is thick, congested, which means-

_ Rush hour. _

She dodges them, slipping past and exhaling with relief when she's back in the alleyways again. She rushes down and slips into the little nook of a closed shop that they found. "I got it-"

"You did?"

Yaz steadies her breathing and gestures the bag. "It's rush hour out there-" Her sentence stops when she hears her phone ringing.

And then Ryan's.

And finally Graham's.

"That can't be-"

Ryan pulls his phone out and stares at the unknown number. "Could it be the Doctor?"

"I don't know-"

Ryan sets his mouth in a thin line as he answers before turning into a glare.

" _ Ryan Sinclair _ ," Barton's voice speaks. "How's your grandad?"

"You know."

Barton snorts across the line, amused. "You know you can't run," He says with confidence. "I will find you and me and my friends will kill you, that is if you're grandad doesn't die before they can," Ryan's hand tightens on his phone. "Or maybe the authorities will do our job for us-"

"What?"

"Have a look at the news," Barton suggests in a smug tone. "You'll find that you're headline news on all stations, naughty naughty-"

"Ryan, get off the phone," Yaz snaps as she reaches for it to end the call. "They can trace us," She points out. "We have to remove the sim cards-"

"Wait," Ryan snatches his phone back. "We need to know if he's telling the truth-" His fingers flick across the screen, heart sinking in an instant when he spots the headline.

"Ryan?"

Ryan stares down at the phone. He feels numb.

"Ryan!" Yaz snaps again. "Turn it off."

"Yeah," Ryan nods and follows Yaz's suggestion before moving on and doing the same for Graham's phone.

"What did it say?"

Ryan hesitates.

"Ryan, what did it-"

"We're wanted," Ryan reveals in a low tone. "Our faces have just been plastered across the news."

Yaz swallows thickly. "You mean-"

"We're Britain's most wanted," Ryan looks up and stares through Yaz. "Armed and dangerous, wanted for highjacking," His breathing increases. "They've branded us terrorists, Yaz, bloody  _ terrorists _ ."

"You need to breathe slowly, Ryan," Yaz instructs in a no-nonsense tone.

"How can I?" Ryan snaps at her. "We can't take Graham to a fucking hospital, we can't phone anyone, we can't do anything!" He throws his phone, smashing it against the opposite brick wall.

"Ryan," Graham says in a low voice. He lifts his head up and stares at his grandson. "The Doctor will-"

"The Doctor isn't here," Ryan speaks over him. "She's not here-"

"Don't want you two fighting," Graham murmurs. "Please."

Yaz looks between the two men. "Come on," She wraps the bag of medicine around her wrist. "We need to move-"

"Where to?"

"We'll find a place, Ryan," Yaz answers. "Now help me with Graham-"

\----

The place in question was the best they could find on short notice—a half-built housing estate with a lack of cameras.

_ Perfect. _

If not cold and uncomfortable.

But at least they're safe, well,  _ safer _ now in their opinion. Safe enough to finally address the elephant in the room.

The elephant being Graham and his arm.

"Graham," Yaz says as she rifles through the plastic bag with 'recycle me' written across it. "How is your arm?"

Graham looks at her through half-closed eyes. He's lent back against a half-finished wall covered in clear plastic that has been hastily thrown over it.

"Graham, I need you to answer-"

"Come on, gramps-"

Graham groans with effort. "Cold."

"Cold?" Ryan repeats. "Are you cold or-"

"Arm," Graham clarifies. "Cold, uh-" His brows crease together with strain. "Pins, needles-"

Yaz frowns. She shuffles forward and begins to remove the now sodden headrests, discarding them to the floor. They both look at the wound and their worry flairs for Graham.

"Should it be that-"

"I don't know," Yaz cuts him off. She reaches for the alcohol wipes and begins to wipes them across Graham's upper arm. She pauses, eyes narrowed in thought.

"Yaz?" Ryan frowns. "What's up?"

Yaz blinks and carries on. "Nothing-"

"Don't lie to me, Yaz."

Yaz sighs. "Graham, can I ask you another question?"

"What?"

"Can you feel that?"

"Dunno," Graham admits. "Tired."

"Yaz, what are you thinking?"

Yaz finishes up cleaning the wound as best as she can. "It should've stung, but-"

"It didn't," Ryan concludes.

Yaz lifts Graham's arm, and she finds no resistance at all from it. She turns his forearm over and reaches for his wrist, resting her two fingers against where his pulse should be.

_ Should be. _

She presses harder and counts.

One, two, three, four-

"Yaz-"

Five, six, seven, eight-

Yaz exhales when there's the faintest response, but she can't be sure if it's from her own fingers or from Graham himself. She gently rests his arm down and takes Graham's right arm, fingers instantly finding the differences between each arm.

His right is warm with a worryingly slow pulse.

His left is cold with one pulse in ten seconds that she can't safely say was his.

"What have you found?" Ryan asks.

Yaz slowly looks at Ryan, mouth opening and closing. She places Graham's right arm down and gets up, motioning for Ryan to follow her for a moment. As soon as she's sure she's out of hearing range, she focuses on Ryan's face. "I can't find a pulse."

"In both?"

"No, just his left," Yaz rubs her hands down her face. "I don't know if it's the tourniquet or-" She trails away and breathes heavily. "-I don't know what I'm doing, Ryan."

Ryan looks over to Graham, and his heart sinks. "How long has it been since he was shot?"

"It's been hours," Yaz answers. "It's dark now."

They stare at their friend and family member. His skin is ashen, his hair is messed up and stuck to his forehead, and for a flash in time they both think he could be dead with how little he's moving.

"If we don't get him proper help, Yaz, he'll-"

"Die."

"Yaz."

"What?"

"You can leave, you don't have to be here," Ryan looks her way. "Go-"

"Ryan-"

"Go, Yaz," Ryan pleads with her. "Figure out a way to find the Doctor and get her here, get her to save the day like she does."

"I'm not-"

Ryan turns and faces her. "There is no point in all of us getting caught," He states. "Go and get the Doctor."

"I-"

"Go, Yaz, please," Ryan says again. "Graham wouldn't want you arrested along with us, and-" He looks back towards Graham. "He's my responsibility."

Yaz stares back and relents. "Be safe, Ryan, Barton is-"

"If Barton was concerned with us we would've been found now," Ryan says. "Those things would've come here, but I have a feeling we're not important because he knows about Graham."

Yaz pulls out her phone and sim card and starts to hand it over to Ryan, who pushes it back. "Ryan-"

"I have Graham's phone," Ryan reminds. "I'll see you around."

Yaz nods and unwillingly turns away. "You better make sure you keep that promise, Ryan Sinclair."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i wonder if you can guess where i am going with this


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you've ever watched LOUK then you'll spot the two references to LOUK in this :>

Ryan stares down at Graham's phone. It's done, and he's sealed his and his grandad's fates. He drops the phone to the ground, discarding it before heading back over to Graham's still form. "Gramps?" Ryan carefully shakes the older man. "Hey, you can't sleep yet-"

Graham groans in response. "Fine-"

"I know I'm asking a for a lot right now," Ryan continues as bravely as he can. "But you're gonna get the help you need, all right? You just have to hang on until it comes."

"Soon?"

"Yeah, soon, very soon," Ryan settles himself next to Graham's right side, and he takes his right hand in his. "After this is done and you're back to your usual grumpy self we can go on a trip somewhere, right? Just you and me, you know, family bonding and all that-" Graham murmurs something before resting his head against Ryan's shoulder. Ryan holds Graham's hand tighter. "The Doctor will get us out, and she'll save the day-"

Ryan glances down to Graham when the man doesn't respond. "Gramps?"

He waits.

"Hey," He pushes himself from the wall and quickly catches the older man when he falls. "Don't you dare-" He grunts through gritted teeth. "Don't you bloody dare-"

Ryan shakes Graham frantically before bringing his hand to his neck to feel for a pulse. "Oh, thank god," He exhales when he finds one, weak as it is though. "Where the hell are they?" He demands as he stands and looks out over the building estate. "Come on-"

He stares at the gate they broke into hours earlier and finds his heartrate increasing when his eyes catch sight of the blue lights. "Graham, they're here." He glances back. "You're safe now."

He turns back again and walks out, hands raised in the air just as cars pull up and people file out. "We're unarmed-"

"GET ON THE GROUND-" A group shout over the top of him, guns raised and aimed squarely on his chest. "-NOW!"

Ryan kneels, and before he knows what's happening, he finds his arms pulled behind his back. "Please help my grandad-"

"Check that house out-" A man, young-ish with brown hair snaps before he comes over and kneels by Ryan. "Ryan Sinclair, you're under arrest for highjacking and terrorism, you do not have to say anything, but anything you do say will be taken into account in the court law-"

"Sam-"

"Yeah?" Sam looks up with a frown.

"It's clear, but," Another unrecognisable voice says. "It's just the one in here-"

"Like he said?"

"No trace of the girl, but this guy, he ain't doing so good-"

The man named Sam huffs above Ryan. "Let the paramedics through now that we know it's clear; I want him alive, as for this one-" Ryan finds himself being lifted from the ground and all he can do is angle his head to the doorway leading to Graham. "-take him to station for questioning-"

"Detective?"

"Before counter-terrorism gets involved."

"No," Ryan wriggles, heart in his mouth as he's taken away. "I need to know if he's-"

"All you need to know is that you're being arrested."

"He's all I have," Ryan states. "I need him _alive_."

\----

"The charges against you are long, Mr Sinclair-"

"And I'm telling you that we haven't done anything," Ryan snaps. "What plane did we highjack? Who got hurt-" He stutters on that sentence and decides to move on. "Just look into it, and you'll see that we haven't _done_ anything."

"Then explain to me why there is a warrant for your arrest along with a-" Sam's eyes flick down to the sheet in front of him. "Yasmin Khan and a Graham O'Brien."

"It was Daniel Barton-" Ryan says again. "It was all him, every single part of it," He explains. "He was the one who shot Graham-"

Sam leans back into his seat. "Daniel Barton of VOR?" His eyebrow raises. "That you were chasing on motorbikes through a French vineyard?"

Ryan nods. "I know it sounds mental, but you saw those lights," He reminds. "We all saw it happen; you can't deny that it didn't-"

Sam shuffles in his seat. "Nah, that was-" His sentence falls away when the door to the interview room slams opens. "Gov-"

"Interview terminated at eleven-thirty-"

"I don't understand-"

"You don't need to understand, detective," The Gov speaks over him. "Orders from the top."

"But-"

"Ryan Sinclair is to be released, and we're to stop pooling our resources into building a case against them."

Ryan stares at the woman, older and probably nearing Graham's age if he had to guess. "What happened?"

The Gov watches Ryan before stepping aside and glancing through the doors. "You may enter now-"

Ryan frowns at the door only for his eyes to widen when he spots Yaz and someone he wasn't expecting to see so soon. "Doctor-"

"Ryan," The Doctor swoops in and pulls out her sonic. She quickly releases his hands from his cuffs before glancing over him. "I'm sorry-"

Ryan stands, limbs protesting the movement. "Not important," He turns to head towards the door. "I need to see Graham-"

"I can have a car ready to take you to the hospital," The Gov reassures. "I'm sorry about this-"

Yaz looks her way, eyes softening. "You were just doing your job, DI Chandler."

"But still," DI Chandler runs a hand down her face. "There's a lot we need to discuss and clear out, to think we were-"

"No offence," Ryan interjects. "But I need to check on my grandad." He shoves past the rising detective and heads for the door.

"Sam go with them," DI Chandler instructs. "The officers need to stand down."

"Right," Sam nods. "Come on, you two."

The Doctor watches as Yaz follows Sam out. "Thank you, Natalie-"

Natalie waves her off. "When Kate Stewart phones telling you to release and cease your search efforts for three people, well-"

"I mean it,"

"Kate is a friend of mine," Natalie informs. "Now go ahead, Doctor," Her face shifts and she glances towards the door. "Your friend-"

"Graham-"

"He was seriously injured."

The Doctor focuses on Natalie's face. "Is he alive?"

Natalie nods, but there's hesitation on her face. "The hospital had to make a choice between his life and his-" There's a definite pause.

"His what?"

"Arm."

The Doctor's blood runs colder than usual. She stares at Natalie, eyes searching her face for any hint of a lie. "I have to go," She turns, not waiting for a response as she makes her way down the stairs and out towards the waiting cruiser.

Hearts in her throat as she goes.

\----

Ryan all but leaps from the cruiser the moment it stops, and he doesn't let up until he gets to the reception. "Graham O'Brien," He all but barks at the young man behind the counter. "Where is he?"

"I'm sorry, but-"

"It's all right," Sam files in behind them. "Detective Sam Casey-"

The young man stares at Sam. "Go on ahead, Detective-"

"Cheers,"

"Wait," Ryan snaps. "Why does he get to go?" He looks between the receptionist and the detective. "I'm his grandson."

"I need to relieve the officers present," Sam explains. "And-" He shifts on his feet.

"And you need to wait for Dr Miller," The young man states.

Ryan removes his eyes from Sam and locks them on the receptionist just as the Doctor and Yaz enter. "Why?"

"Dr Miller will explain," The young man reassures. "I can't disclose patient details-"

"But I'm his grandson-"

"And I'm just a receptionist."

Yaz walks forward and rests a hand on Ryan's arm. "Let's just wait, shall we?"

"I wanna see him-"

"And you will, but we have to wait-"

Ryan pulls his arm free and looks about ready to go into another tirade, mouth opening and shutting when a voice calls out.

"Mr Sinclair?" Ryan snaps his head towards the newcomer. A woman, short-cropped hair with pale blue scrubs. "I'm Dr Miller-"

"Where's Graham?"

Dr Miller flicks her eyes between the three of them. "You need to follow me."

"I just want to see-"

"This is about your grandfather," Dr Miller interjects. "There were some complications that we need to inform you about-"

"He's not-"

"No, Ryan," The Doctor states this time, face drawn. "He's not dead."

"Then why do I need to-"

Dr Miller focuses on Ryan. "You can see him, but we have to inform you first, so it doesn't come as a shock."

"What will?"

"Please, Mr Sinclair," Dr Miller sighs.

"Ryan," Yaz looks his way. "We need to follow her."

Ryan nods and begins heading after Dr Miller. His nerves flair in his stomach as they're lead through the hospital and towards a room. A room he's been sat in before, but just when he was a lad learning about his mum.

A room that is only there for bed news-

His heart rate increases, blood pumping through his ears. The Doctor said Graham wasn't dead, but if he's not dead, then why are they in this room?

"You should take a seat-"

"Just tell me what has happened," Ryan almost barks. "I know what this room is for; it's only for news no one wants to hear-"

Dr Miller gestures for the Doctor and Yaz to sit before lowering her arm when neither do. "Mr O'Brien is very ill," She begins. "We've done all we can for him at the moment-"

"He's not going to die, is he?"

Dr Miller falters. "He has the best treatment available to him-"

"Then why can't I see him then?"

"You can, but-" Dr Miller inhales. "You have to understand that he is very sick, and we made the decision to save his life at the cost of his left arm."

"What do you mean?"

"We had to amputate his left arm-"

Ryan stands stock still, and he shakes his head. "No, he was just shot- you- you- you don't lose an arm because you were shot, you don't-"

"He went for hours without treatment-"

"You don't just lose an arm!" Ryan snaps with shock and anger. "Doctor," He snaps his head towards his friend. "Tell me you don't-"

The Doctor swallows before turning towards Dr Miller. "What was his state when he arrived?"

Dr Miller glances across her. "He was in the beginning stages of blood poisoning, infection from the bullet itself, and that's not to mention the state of his arm-"

"His arm?" Yaz voices the question while she keeps her eyes on Ryan's face. "I didn't think he would-"

"He lost a lot of blood, even without the infection within him we might've not been able to save his arm," Dr Miller reveals. "His humerus-" She taps at her upper arm. "Was fractured from the bullet that got lodge within it."

Ryan shakes his head again, refusing to believe. "I need to see him-" He demands, feet already turning him from the family liaison room.

"You won't be able to," Dr Miller says.

"Why not?" Ryan shouts, fear overtaking his core. "I want to see him!"

"He's in the ICU," Dr Miller explains with slight exasperation. "In a medically induced coma, as I said, he is very sick."

Ryan clenches his hands before bringing them up to his eyes. "I just need to see him."

"I can take you to the ward, we- we uh, we put him in a secure room because the police informed us what he was wanted for, but-" She purses her lips into a thin line. "-that doesn't seem to be relevant right now."

"His name was cleared," The Doctor speaks up, voice low and eyes focused on the far wall. "He shouldn't have been-" Her eyes close, and she slumps down on the sofa. "-I shouldn't have got you three involved-"

Dr Miller looks between them once again. "May I ask what happened?"

Yaz looks up first, eyes shining in the room's artificial light. "It's a long story-"

"I see," Dr Miller nods. "Confidential, I can only assume."

"Something like that."

Dr Miller shuffles. "I'm sorry we couldn't save his arm, but-"

"You did what you could for his life," Ryan murmurs under his breath. "He's alive because you made a decision."

Dr Miller approaches Ryan and rests a hand on his arm. "I can take you to see him, but-" Her eyes flick to the Doctor and Yaz. "Are you all his family?"

"Something like that," Yaz replies.

"I shouldn't take all of you, but-" Dr Miller sighs. "-you can all come as long as you don't enter the room."

"Thank you," Yaz says. "We appreciate it."

Dr Miller makes her way back towards the door, and she holds it open for the three of them. She begins to lead them through the hospital once more. They take the lift in silence to the ICU ward, hearts in their throats all the way.

It's not a long walk from the lift until they're lead to a door leading to the private wards. Detective Sam Casey spots their approach from his overseeing of the police lingering around.

"We need to speak to you," Sam walks forward. "But it can wait for the time being-" His eyes flick down the corridor. "-we need to know what happened, but-" He runs a hand down his face. "-when you're ready."

Sam gives them a slight nod before turning away and leaving with the other police officers.

"Mr O'Brien's room is just down here," Dr Miller says as she begins walking again. "There are a few things we need to discuss-" Her eyes flick across them.

"Like what?" Yaz replies because Ryan won't be judging by the shock on his face.

"We'll need to send out an occupational therapist to his home."

"Why?"

Dr Miller pauses at a door. "That's a discussion for another time," She opens the door and steps inside. "He's just through here; this is a viewing room before his ward-"

They enter the room in silence, each one making eye contact with Graham's motionless form. From the angle they're viewing he simply looks like he's sleeping, or he would if it weren't for the ventilator attached to his face.

Ryan's not sure if he's relieved that Graham is facing them on his right side, the left side currently turned to the far wall. He's not sure if he could've handled seeing Graham like that-

Like-

Yaz sniffles behind him, one hand reaching for the glass. "He looks so-" She chokes back a sob.

"Ill," Ryan mumbles. "We should've-" He slips, tears finally breaking free. "-we should've just brought him here-"

"No, Ryan," The Doctor whispers. "Don't do that."

"It was our choice to not-"

"Ryan," The Doctor finally focuses upon Ryan, her face restrictive of the emotions boiling underneath. "It's not your fault."

Ryan faces Dr Miller. "Could you have saved his arm if he was brought in earlier?"

"Perhaps, but-" Dr Miller's eyes look through the glass to Graham. "The bullet lodged itself in his arm; it was infected the moment it happened, I can't say for sure, but-"

"It's a strong possibility," Yaz concludes.

"I'll leave you three alone to gather yourselves," Dr Miller says. "I'm sorry we couldn't do more."

And with that she's gone, leaving them to stare at Graham.

Alive-

-but changed _forever_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yup, DS Sam Casey and DI Natalie Chandler are characters from another show Chris Chibnall (And Bradley Walsh who was in it along with Freema Agyeman and a bunch of other Who actors) worked on. I'm using them as a sort of reference to them, but it's more of a namesake than anything.
> 
> Also, Jemma Redgrave (Who plays Kate Stewart) was in an episode of LOUK. I liked the idea of this Kate Stewart and Natalie being friends. Also, this is mostly from Ryan's perspective, but he will learn what Yaz got up to while he was arrested.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chugga chugga chugga chugga choo choo the angst train continues

Silence.

They stand in silence; all crowded around the window looking in on their seriously ill family member.

Yaz is first to act, to finish the move she made to the window earlier. Her hand lies flat against the cold glass, grounding her but not her racing heart. Tears tumble down her face while her left hand forms a fist. She flicks her eyes down to it, bile rising in her throat. "Graham-" She stumbles on her words. "We-"

"We failed him," Ryan completes her sentence. "We were so caught up in getting arrested that we didn't-"

The Doctor does a rare move, one hand reaching for Yaz's shoulder, the other for Ryan's. "None of this is your fault; I said that before, and it still applies."

Ryan breaks next. "How-" He blinks, trying to shed the tears in his eyes. "How did this happen?" He demands from no one. "If we just- if we-" Ryan pulls at his crumpled tuxedo jacket, finding it constricting all of a sudden. "Barton did this," He spits, anger lacing his tone. "He shot my grandad, and now Graham doesn't have an arm!"

Yaz turns from the window to watch Ryan. "We can bring him to justice-"

"How?" Ryan snaps. "We don't know where the bastard is!"

"We do," The Doctor interrupts. "I mean, I can find out."

"What?"

"You missed a lot, Ryan," Yaz rubs at her exhausted eyes. "We stopped Barton, we stopped the Kasavin, and-" She looks towards the Doctor, waiting for her.

"We stopped the Master," The Doctor grunts out. "I took Yaz from that hanger, dropped off-" She pauses. "They're not important right now, and neither is what the Master wanted me to do," She decides. "Bringing Barton to justice is, and he's alone, he doesn't have the Kasavin, he doesn't have the Master-"

"He has a world looking for him," Yaz concludes. "He will be found, Ryan, and he will be dealt with by the world."

"And then what?" Ryan questions. "Finding him doesn't-" He chokes on the word, eyes flicking to Graham's unmoving body. "-it- it doesn't bring his arm back."

Ryan's statement lingers in the air uncomfortably.

"Doctor," Yaz starts. "Can you- can you-" The question lingers on her tongue. "Is there anything you can do?"

"I can help him," The Doctor answers. "But I can't bring back what was taken-"

Well, she _could_ , but that would involve too many questions, too many explanations and lies, too many experiments-

"I'll do what I can for him," The Doctor states. "I promise, but I can't bring back his arm if that is what you're asking."

"Not even in the-"

"Yaz," The Doctor says. "I can't, but there are things I can do, possibly build, but that's all I can do for Graham."

"But he's still gonna have to find out," Ryan murmurs. "He's still-" He exhales. "He's left-handed- how is he going to manage?" He stares at Yaz and the Doctor. "His life is changed and how is he-" The door opening causes Ryan to cut himself off.

"I'm going to have to ask you to leave now," Dr Miller says when she re-enters the small corridor. "You don't live in London, but you are welcome to stay in our family-"

"We have somewhere to stay," The Doctor interjects. "Close by."

"Very well," Dr Miller nods. "We'll need to arrange for that visit to his house at some point, but-" She looks mainly towards Ryan. "-that can be done in a few days time, in the meantime get some-"

"When will he wake up?"

Dr Miller fixates her eyes on Ryan. "I can't say-"

Ryan nods. "You can't say because you can't know for certain if he's going to wake up, not at this stage anyway," He concludes. "I know what it's like to be in this position."

"He has the best care that we can give him," Dr Miller explains diplomatically. "And he'll continue to given the same care."

Ryan looks back towards his grandad's still form, eyes lingering on the rising and falling of his chest. He presses his hand against the window for a moment before pulling away and exiting the corridor without a word.

"Thank you, Dr," Yaz says just before following after Ryan.

The Doctor takes one more look at Graham. "I'm so, so, sorry, Graham," She murmurs. "But I will do what I can for you."

\----

_Two weeks later..._

And that particular _smell_.

Antiseptic and bleach.

That is a smell that Graham has smelt enough times in his life to instantly know where he is before he even opens his eyes. He groans when his senses start coming back to him—twinges and aches; pain and tiredness.

God, he feels rough. Like a morning after a weekend on the sauce without a break levels of rough. Something he really has felt since he was in his early twenties.

But he knows he wasn't out drinking in pubs because of that damn smell which means- He groans again, this time louder which draws the attention of the occupants within the room.

"Mr O'Brien-"

"Oh no, not that," Graham grunts with effort, forcing the words out from a throat that refuses to co-operate. "That's my dad; it's just Graham."

"Hey-" Comes Ryan's voice off to his right side. "-take it easy, all right?"

Graham groans for the third time. He refuses to open his eyes because he knows the lights will sting. "Ryan?" He begrudgingly blinks his eyes open and flicks them towards his grandson, squinting them as he does it. "Oh-" Graham spots the bags under Ryan's eyes. "-you look like shit, sort of like how I feel," He settles his head back against the pillow and shuts his eyes again. "My throat is dry-"

"Oh," Ryan rustles of to his right. "Here-" Graham opens his eyes again, and he stares at the straw. "-I'll hold it for you."

"Can I not suddenly drink for myself?" Graham questions before relenting and taking a swig. "Straws are bad now," He remarks offhandedly. "Shouldn't be using them."

"Mr- Graham," The same voice from before speaks. "I have some questions to ask you and some-"

"No, wanna sleep," Graham mumbles as he settles his head back against the pillows. "Can it wait?"

"You've slept for two weeks, gramps."

Graham now looks up to the ceiling and frowns. "What?" He flicks his eyes to Ryan. "Two weeks?"

"You were hurt."

"Hurt?"

"Uh," Ryan flounders on the spot. "You were- you-"

The stranger, a doctor most likely, Graham finally realises when he takes him in, comes to Ryan's rescue and steps closer to his bed. "How much do you remember?"

Graham's brows furrow together, and he shrugs, stopping in an instant when it hurts to do so. He catches Ryan's eyes moving away from his face all of a sudden. "What happened?"

"I'm Dr McCullum, one of the Orthopaedic specialists here at the Queen Mary's Hospital," He introduces himself. "I took over from Dr Miller when you arrived here from St George-"

"St George's? Queen Mary's?" Graham's confusion grows. "But there ain't no St George or Queen Mary's in Sheffield-" He blinks. "That's London, what am I doing in London?" Graham stares at the young man, black hair and green eyes, tight look upon his youthful face. "Why am I here?"

"You don't remember, gramps?" Ryan questions, voice tinted with obvious worry. "You really don't remember anything?"

Graham screws his eyes shut. "I- I, uh-" He stares at the ceiling above and thinks. "I think-" He opens his eyes wide and tries to reach out with his dominate hand, frowning deeply when he struggles to do so. "-the Doc, Barton, the Master-"

"She's all right, gramps," Ryan flicks his eyes towards Dr McCullum. "You just need to take it easy, all right?"

"I need to see-" Graham trails off. "Wait," He looks at Dr McCullum. "You said Orthopaedic? That's bone-"

Dr McCullum's face twitches. "You were shot, Graham-"

"Shot?" Graham repeats incredulously. "I think I would-" He cuts himself off again. "Two weeks, you said?"

"It's routine that your memory might be hazy," Dr McCullum informs him. "You were in a very serious condition when you arrived at St George's."

"You're out of the woods now, though, all right?" Ryan babbles. "Had us worried for a long time, but you're- you're-"

"Out of the-" Graham echoes. "How bad was I hurt to be classed as that?"

Ryan hesitates. "I think-"

"Ryan?" Graham stares at Ryan. "What-what happened after the plane?"

"You remember that?"

"I don't-" Graham frowns and tries to pinch the bridge of his nose. He moves his right arm instead considering his left doesn't want to play ball right presently. "Maybe?" He stares at Ryan and Dr McCullum. "My arm was shot; it hurt."

"I'm sorry, but there is no easy way to say this, Graham," Dr McCullum begins. 

"Say what?"

"Due to the condition that you arrived at St George, drastic measures had to be taken to ensure your survival by the surgeon's there, and they called it."

"My survival? Surgeons?" Graham quotes. "What is going on?"

"We couldn't save your left arm," Dr McCullum reveals. "I'm sorry-"

"And what does that mean?" Graham asks with dread. He stares at Dr McCullum's face, and he catches his eyes flick to where his left arm is. He slowly follows his gaze and wishes he didn't. "This-" He stares at the space. "Where's my- oh my god-"

"Graham-"

He tunes Dr McCullum out in favour of clenching his jaw while he stares at his bandaged shoulder and the space where his arm should _be_. There's a tube leading from the end of the bandage, draining away excess fluid.

"Mr O'Brien, we had to-"

"No, this- this-" Graham shakes his head as the heartrate machine picks up, showing his distress. "-this is a joke or a nightmare, this ain't real 'cos I would feel-" He trails off when he realises he does _feel_ his arm. That's the pain he was feeling, psychosomatic perhaps. "-I'm just-"

"Graham-"

"It's-"

"You were very sick-"

Graham snaps his head around to Dr McCullum and Ryan. "I was bloody shot-" He snaps, voice raising along with the heart monitor again, blood pumps rapidly through him. "Shot, how the hell- My arm-" Graham cries, face twisting from realisation. "-How does-" He can't formulate the words he needs to speak, throat suddenly dry for a very different reason. "How-"

"You were left untreated for a long time, Graham," Dr McCullum's voice breaks through Graham's panic. "We had to make the decision that saved you life."

"But-"

"It's a lot to take in, I know, but we have ways to help you-"

Graham tunes him out as he focuses on the spot. 

He feels sick. He thinks for his arm, mentally moves it like it would come back somehow.

Only it doesn't because it doesn't work like that.

"Grandad?" Ryan speaks. "You're alive and-"

"But I'm missing my _fucking_ arm!" Graham snaps, panic and fear filling him. The heartrate machine continues to beep with speed. He glares at Dr McCullum. "You took my arm."

"Gramps," Ryan tries again, voice shaking now, eyes wet. "They had to do it to save your life."

Graham turns his head away from Dr McCullum and stares at Ryan. "I don't-" He attempts to swallow the lump in his throat. "I need- I need-"

And he cries. Head lowering to his lap as tears fall from his eyes.

Ryan leans forward in an instant, and he grabs Graham into a hug. "I'm here-" The lad murmurs. "-ain't gonna let you deal with this alone, am I?"

"But my-"

"We'll deal with it together," Ryan tightens his hold, ever careful not to hurt his grandad in the process. "It's my turn to look after you now."

"I was meant to look after you," Graham mumbles into Ryan's shoulder. "I promised Grace-"

"And I promise you that it doesn't matter," Ryan states. "We'll work through this together."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so, that is one of the major differences
> 
> The Doctor hasn't gone to Gallifrey because Graham is more important right now
> 
> ps, i drew an idea for future graham
> 
> https://braddersbangerz.tumblr.com/post/626012231750057984/catch-me-changing-grahams-arm-a-million-times


	6. Chapter 6

It's been the week from hell since waking up and finding out about the unthinkable for Graham. Different visitors. Dr McCullum, a physiotherapist that suggested exercises he could do, an actual therapist that he ignored for the most part. Yaz, Ryan obviously, and the Doctor even if she did just stand there.

Well, they all stood there really, shuffling from foot to foot awkwardly.

He wasn't exactly the one to ask for a conversation, and talking about the weather would only have made it all the more uncomfortable.

And anyway, he spent most of the time sleeping because that's the one thing they never tell you after having treatment or something is how tired you are.

And then Yaz had to go back to Sheffield because _apparently_ being wanted by the police isn't a good thing for an up and coming probationary officer. It was of Graham's understanding that the DI woman they all spoke about, Chandler or something, would send in a good word for Yaz.

At least that's someone covered.

Unlike Ryan, who lost his job at the warehouse after telling them to shove it up their asses when they requested he come back to work.

Or himself.

Now, they explained the events that were a blank spot in his memory. He remembers being shot and the plane, but anything else? Nothing, head completely empty. No thoughts what so ever.

And as far as Graham was aware, he was shot, he still had his left arm, and now he doesn't. Instead, he has the ring from his left ring finger now attached to his necklace.

And also, his phone hasn't stopped ringing. From friends and people he sort of knows; to people, he hasn't spoken to in years.

Well, he's ignored all of their calls because he hardly wants to explain what happened.

Or tell them he's an invalid.

_"No, that's a negative thought, Graham."_

One of his therapists would say, and he'd grunt in response and go back to staring at the raindrops on the window while the babyfaced man spoke about whatever.

Then Ryan would show back up again, hang around, stare at him like he's about to keel over and die. He'd make small talk, mention about how Aaron showed someone from the Royal Hallamshire Hospital around their house which, quite frankly, was aggravating for Graham to listen to because that wasn't Ryan's place to tell.

But maybe he needed to tell someone during the two weeks that he was in a coma and Aaron was the best bet.

Maybe Yaz told her parents and family.

Maybe his friends phoning every day is because they know as well.

It's not like Graham's had any say in what happens to him during the last few weeks, so why wouldn't they-

_"Negative thought."_

Hell, he doesn't even get a say in what he eats-

Or how they cut up his food.

_"You're still thinking in negatives."_

He feels like a child with bite-sized portions and a spork. All cut up into tiny stabbable pieces that he painstakingly eats with his right hand.

His useless right hand that can't even hold a pen correctly.

And he's left with the realisation that he can't spend his evenings working through his crossword book while waiting for dinner to finish cooking.

Might as well throw that in the bin-

_"That's a negative thought again, Graham-"_

No, screw the positive thoughts. Why can't he be negative? It's his right to be negative.

And it's his right to be a miserable bastard with a scowl permanently etched upon his tired face.

At least the raindrops don't mention his mood like his therapist does. They just race down the pane of glass collecting others as they go.

Graham exhales and looks to his left before turning to his right.

Nearly sixty years of reaching for things on your left doesn't change in a week.

He grabs his phone from the right side, and for once he's glad about the fact that he can unlock it with his face. And he's glad that the Doctor wiped all traces of Barton's company from his phone so at least he has that small comfort.

Now, if only she could find the bastard and take his arms. Graham would very much like that.

He thumbs through the messages, some dating back from a few weeks ago asking what the hell is going on. Some more recent asking where he is.

Graham selects Gabe's text because it's as good as any to start on. Unsurprisingly, it starts with asking what is going on and why is his face on the news along with Ryan's and a girl he doesn't know.

And then it shifts to asking what is happening? His phoned buzzed, and he picked it up because he thought it was Graham and then there was white light, and he couldn't move, and it was so weird-

And now Graham isn't wanted, it was a misunderstanding before spiralling into the press having a field day about companies having too much power.

_"How is it that the CEO of a company like VOR can take over the police and the news with fake warrants for arrests?"_

Or something along those lines. There were far too many stories at his, Ryan's, and Yaz's expense.

Because Gabe mentioned how there was a page on him and Ryan and the girl in the text he's reading, but as soon as it was published and posted, it was gone.

Which Graham can only assume that the Doctor had a part in that.

He should probably thank her when she next turns up to stand in silence, mouth opening and closing like a goldfish. Arms held behind her back like having a left arm is suddenly illegal in law.

The last message from Gabe is asking about him. The concern is evident in the text.

_He's worried._

And that does make Graham feel something other than anger and pain and negativity.

 _Guilt_.

He should fix that.

He stares at the message for a long moment before placing his phone down on the table where he untouched lunch sits. He stabs at the phone with his index finger, frowning down at the screen as he frustratingly taps out his reply.

_-I'm fine._

Graham sends.

_-Well, I'm alive._

He sends next.

_-Not sure if I can play poker anymore._

He types out, finger hovering over the send button for a second.

_-Probably a good thing for you and Freddy because I win all the time._

Or he did.

Graham stares at the phone and the messages, and he's about to lean away, but he stops when the phone vibrates with a rattle.

_-Graham? You had us worried, mate, where are you? And what do you mean you can't play poker?_

_-It's a long story._

_-A long story? You were wanted, how does that come about? And where are you? We've been round to your house, but there wasn't an answer or when there was it was by Ryan's dad, and he didn't say anything._

Graham considers not replying. He really does because he doesn't want more pity layered upon him, but maybe-

_-I'm in London._

_-London? What are you doing there?_

Graham taps the message out and stares at it for the longest time.

_-I'm in the hospital._

Now, that's a pause.

_-It's not your cancer again, is it, Graham?_

Graham chews the inside of his mouth. He glances towards the remainder of his arm.

_-No, it isn't._

_-Then why are you in the hospital for?_

_-Graham?_

_-I had an operation._

Graham begins to say.

_-Probably should tell you now rather than have you staring at me when I get back to Sheffield._

_-Graham, mate, what is going on?_

He types the message out multiple times, thankful that Gabe seems to be giving him a chance to respond or to find the correct words.

But damn it, his right arm is aching from being held in an uncomfortable position now.

_-I was hurt, badly, don't want to talk about it._

He begins the next message, but he can't bring himself to explain what happened. Each time he types it out, it's like a brick to the face on the screen. His heart rate picks up, betrayed by the beeping machine once again.

_'My left arm is gone.'_

Is what he wants to say, but he doesn't. He deletes and diverts.

_-Hope the kids and your wife are fine, I have to go. Sorry._

_-Graham, no wait, what-_

He throws the phone to the side table and regrets ever opening up the messages in the first place.

Graham brings his shaking right hand to his face, rubbing it down it before lashing out and knocking the untouched food to the floor in anger.

"Stupid, stupid-"

The door opens. "Mr O'Brien-"

"It's Graham," He snaps at his nurse. A kind face, he shouldn't yell at her. What would Grace think? "I said this already."

"Fine," The nurse responds with the patience of a saint. "Graham, you can't let yourself get worked-" She trails off. "-why is your lunch on the floor?"

"Dunno."

"You're fifty-nine," The nurse reminds. "Not nine, it doesn't just end up on the floor, Graham."

Graham stares at his lap. "I got-" He closes his eyes. "I got-"

"Would you like me to get Jake for you?"

Jake, Jake-

Oh, that Jake, the Jake he ignores in favour of looking at the raindrops when he starts talking about negative feelings.

"I shouldn't have made a mess," Graham murmurs. "You got enough work to do, trust me, I know-" He looks up at her. "My wife, Grace, was a nurse."

"Oh, where is she?"

"Dead," Graham kills that conversation. "She was Ryan's nan, but it's just us now-" 

"What about your daughter?" 

Graham frowns. "What?" 

"The blonde-haired- Sorry, I assumed she was your daughter, she gave your name as hers." 

Graham's mind works quickly, wondering why she would. "She's my-" He thinks. "-uh niece, not got kids, but I guess she's close enough to a daughter, she stays with me, and I look after her, but I guess I can't do that now."

The nurse picks up Graham's lunch, and he feels guilty for that. "They stayed by you when you were sleeping, both of them, and the young woman before she had to leave."

"Yeah," Graham mumbles. "Sorry-"

"What for?"

"For being a child," Graham says. "Didn't eat it 'cos it got cut up, made me feel like an invalid-"

"Now, Graham," The nurse discards the food into the bin. "You're not that, that's not a word we use."

"But I can't cut my food up," Graham states. "And if it is too big then Ryan cuts it up for me and I just-" He won't cry. He turns to the window instead. "I was going to tell my friend what happened, but I couldn't and I got scared and angry about it."

"You should speak to Jake-"

"He can't bring my arm back," Graham interjects. "So, what is the point?"

The nurse sighs in the way Grace used to when he was being difficult during treatment. "Have you spoken about prosthetics yet?"

Graham flicks his eyes down to his stump. Bandaged, compressed, healing.

"They're pretty advanced now."

Graham knows they're advanced. Ryan mentioned it, explained how he's watched videos and even contacted other people about them, but-

"It's not my arm."

"No," The nurse sighs. "But it will become your arm."

"Not the same," He mutters as he breaks, and he feels a hand pressed against his right shoulder, comforting while he cries.

"Would you like me to get your grandson?"

"No," Graham shakes his head. "I don't want him seeing me like this."

"Then perhaps Jake is the better option, Graham," She says again. "He is trained to help you through this, give him a chance."

Graham nods after a second.

And she's gone, the door shutting in her wake.

He continues to stare into his lap even when the door reopens, revealing the middle-aged man. Black hair, still got a bit of a babyface going on in Graham's opinion, posh voice.

A limp from his prosthetic.

Oh, he really wasn't open to the bloke was he? If anyone here is going to understand what it's like it's him.

"Graham," Jake greets. "Nurse Donohue said you wanted to see me."

Graham snorts. "No," He raises his head and stares at Jake. "She said about getting you; I didn't ask."

"But you agreed."

Damn it; Jake has got him there.

"I know we were meant to have a session tomorrow, but I'm free for the day now," Jake states. "I can see you today and tomorrow, and I think you would benefit from these sessions."

"How did you lose your leg?" Graham finds himself asking before mentally checking himself. "Sorry, that was rude."

"No," Jake shakes his head. "It's a fair question," He settles himself on one of the spare chairs. "Motorbike accident."

"Weren't born without it then?"

"Nope," Jake shrugs. 

"Ain't it kinda funny how you're a therapist for amputees, then?"

"Now, that would be a coincidence, but no," Jake laughs. "I was a therapist anyway, but after losing my leg, I felt it was right to take on cases such as yours."

"We're-" Graham frowns as he thinks. "-I can't remember what they called it."

"Acquired amputees," Jake fills in the blank. "I understand what you're feeling, Graham."

"I wasn't fair on you," Graham murmurs. "Wasn't very good at listening to what you were saying."

"It's only been a week," Jake states. "You're allowed to be angry and scared-"

"That nurse told you."

"No, not exactly," Jake stares through Graham. "As I said, I know what you're feeling all too well," He leans back in his chair. "How about we start again?"

Graham watches Jake for a brief moment before nodding. "All right, we'll start again."


	7. Chapter 7

In hindsight, Graham really shouldn't have knocked his lunch to the floor like a toddler in a high chair because he's paying the price now. His stomach really is kicking up a fuss.

And Jake left a while ago.

Not that he would've asked the man to get him food. They all have enough to do around here than to be servants at his beck and call. He knows that all too well what with Grace being his nurse.

But he is hungry now, and dinner won't be given until later. Maybe he could get something? His physiotherapist encouraged him to get up and move around, keep the blood flowing in his legs and all that nonsense.

He should try.

He slowly swings his legs from the bed and lets them dangle from it. Slow movements he's learnt because the last time he moved like he usually would he nearly ended up on the damn floor.

You know, that's something they don't tell you, or it's something you never think about.

Suddenly being lighter on one side really throws your balance off and maybe that's why he's sat there staring at his legs.

Or maybe he's staring at them because he hasn't considered how he's going to get off the bed with his right hand acting as support and leverage at the same time.

Maybe he should just wait for dinner.

With a sigh, he pulls his legs back onto the bed again and drags the blanket back across them. He won't think in negatives; instead, he'll find something to distract himself with.

_ That isn't his phone because that ended terrible last time. _

Which means Graham guesses he's watching whatever tripe is on the television at two in the afternoon. He begins to turn to his left before catching himself once again and changing directions, hand grabbing the remote from the side table.

Graham turns the small television on and begins flicking through the channels.

Snooker is entertaining, and he does pause on it before flicking over when a negative thought pops into his head. 

_ That's out of the question now and so is golf. Great, might as well sell the clubs he collected over the years. _

_ Dickinson's Real Deal _ is a solid  _ no  _ from Graham. If he wanted to watch people flash cash around, he'd go to the bank. He lingers on  _ Neighbours  _ for a bit before remembering that the last time he watched  _ Neighbours  _ was about ten years prior.

And it only gets worst from there, and Graham is suddenly reminded why he never had the television on during the day. He gives up and leaves  _ The Only Way is Essex _ on because at least then he can recognise the places even if the people on it are something else.

And they really are something else.

He gets embarrassingly gets absorbed into the program, and only snaps out of it when the door to his room opens, revealing Ryan and the Doctor.

Ah, right on time for Ryan to do all the talking and for the Doctor to pretend that she doesn't have a left arm.

"Gramps, they wouldn't let us see you-" Ryan's eyes catch the television, and he looks baffled. "Why are you watching TOWIE for?"

Graham flicks his eyes back to the television. "It was the only thing that was on."

"But TOWIE," Ryan blinks at Graham. "Really?"

"I'm from Essex," Graham counters. "And I didn't feel like watching the snooker 'cos I won't be able-" Pause. "-that's doesn't matter."

"You sure?"

"Yeah," Graham responds. "Do you have any food on you? Cos I'm famished."

Ryan settles himself onto Jake's abandoned seat. "Didn't you have lunch not that long ago?"

"Sort of," Graham mumbles, mind dredging up the memory of it sprawled out on the floor. "Peckish is all."

The Doctor steps forward while rifling through her pockets. She drops a small paper bag of jelly babies onto Graham's lap table. "They should still be good."

"Uh-huh," Graham replies dubiously. "I'll take your word for that," He rotates the bag, so it's facing him.

And it's painful.

The opening is to small for his hand to fit in it, the bag slides across the table, and Ryan looks about ready to jump in.

And he can't have that.

"Don't," Graham mutters with a glance in Ryan's direction. "Just let me do it, Jake said I wasn't an invalid, and if you help me with this then I might as well be one."

"I wasn't-"

"I got it anyway."

Only Graham's way of doing it is breaking the bag open and sending jelly babies and cornflour all over the lap table.

Eh, it's  _ effective _ , and he selects a red one, popping it into his mouth before looking back up at Ryan and the Doctor.

"I'm armless, not useless."

"I never said you were, Gramps, but you don't have to do everything yourself."

Graham hums in response. "Doc, you gonna sit down or just stand there?" He questions. "Cos there's plenty of seats for you to take," The Doctor shuffles stiffly towards a chair. "Heard from Yaz?"

"Yeah," Ryan leans forward. "She's on a caution, but I doubt it'll last 'cos she got that mention from DI Chandler, and that has to count for something, right?"

"Chandler," Graham repeats. "Which one is that again?"

"Natalie," The Doctor speaks. "You haven't met her."

"Right," Graham says. "Oh, I spoke to Gabe."

"Did you tell him?"

Graham glances at Ryan. "No."

"Will you?"

_ No. _

Graham says internally.

"Did you tell Aaron?" He questions externally.

Ryan's face shifts. "He wanted to know who he was showing around our house."

"I see."

"I'm sorry-"

"It's fine," Graham states, "What did he say?"

"How do you mean?"

Graham stares at Ryan. "It's not like I have a cold, Ryan," He frowns. "He had to have said something about it."

"Oh," Ryan rubs his hands together nervously. "He just wanted to know what happened with everything I guess."

"That it?"

"He wanted to know if he could do anything in the house that could help."

"Well, they said they would get back to us about if anything needed to be changed," Graham explains. "Guess that piano can be sold now 'cos between you and me it ain't like we're ever gonna play it now-"

"Graham," Ryan frowns at him. "That ain't funny."

Graham pointedly avoids Ryan's eyes; instead, choosing to push the jelly babies around on his table.

"What did you and your therapist talk about?"

"Stuff," Graham responds. "Rather not talk about it if I'm honest, confidential."

"Oh, okay."

They sit in dragging silence with the only sound in the background coming from the television.

Graham finishes arranging the jelly babies by colour. He's about to put the last yellow one in place only he doesn't. He brings it up to his face and stares at it.

"Graham?"

"What?"

"You're staring at a jelly baby-"

Graham flicks his eyes to Ryan and the Doctor. "It's missing an arm," He returns his gaze to the little yellow sweet. "Out of all the possibilities in the universe, there was one jelly baby in your packet, Doc, that just happened to be missing an arm."

He throws it towards the yellow pile, losing interest in them now. "Did you find that prick?" He looks towards the Doctor.

"No, but I will find him," The Doctor answers. "I promise you; I will."

"Good," Graham grunts. "When you do, will you take his arms for me?"

"Graham-"

"I'm joking," Graham declares. 

_ Kinda _ .

"What will you do when you find him, though?"

"Bring him to justice."

"Can't see how you're going to be able to do that," Graham points out. "Or get any sort of justice for me when most of the world wants to know his damn location."

"He can't escape this planet," The Doctor reminds. "The Kasavin and the- the Kasavin are gone."

"Still not sure how you managed that," Graham sighs. "Don't really care if I'm honest, though," He sighs. "Wanna be out of this room."

"You have a while to go before you can."

"I suppose," Graham mumbles. "Hey, Doc."

"Yeah?"

Graham glances towards his left. "Jake and my nurse mentioned about prosthetics."

"What about them?"

"Is there-" Graham's mouth opens and closes a few times before he turns and faces the Doctor. "-is there anything in the future that can be done?"

"There is."

"Will you do it for me?"

The Doctor stares back at Graham. "I can't take you to the future."

"Can't or won't?"

"Can't, Graham," The Doctor states with the truth. "But I can help you."

"How?"

"I built my sonic," The Doctor says. "I could build you an arm that looks and feels like one from the twenty-first century."

"You can?" Ryan asks, surprised.

"It's up to you, Graham."

Graham considers the Doctor's offer. "Do it, I trust you, Doc."


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry about the mission in action but i was finishing prison break and busy with a bunch of other things plus i wasn't sure how to continue from the previous chapter

For once it's a sunny day, the January chill is still as biting as ever, but it's a substantial and welcome change from the drizzle that they've had recently.

Now if only he could go outside and maybe enjoy the sun, but he can't; instead, Graham is left with staring out of the window like a cat with a longing look.

At least he's out of the bed. Jake would say that's massive progress. Getting up was a definite learning curve. Stuff he did when Ryan or the Doc wasn't around because they would inevitably reach out to help him out.

And it's not that he doesn't want help because there are things he knows he can't do. Like shoelaces, yeah, that's a change he'll have to make. He'll add it to the list. Sell the piano, take the decent shoes to the charity shop, the rest can go into the recycling—things like that.

But getting up? He has to learn. Then there are other aspects, things that he would rather not have help with. You go to the bathroom for decades with zero issues, then you lose an arm, and it suddenly makes it daunting. The nurses have been great even if he feels somehow lesser by needing help with it. Hell, Grace used to help on the worse days of chemo, she'd clean up and help out when he felt too sick to do anything, so this is similar in a way, but not really.

Graham sighs and glances down at the remainder of his arm again. He rolls his shoulder, lifting it upwards before sighing once more. He hated it before, and he still does now, but Jake has helped him, shown him everything he can still do with a little bit of learning.

But Jake lost a leg, and he lost an arm. Jake could still go to the bathroom by himself, but he can't, so it's different. Graham only wishes he lost a leg instead of him dominate arm.

Then again, he supposes he is lucky compared to others 'cos it ain't like they have the Doctor to build a limb for them, is it? Yeah, it's not his actual arm, but Jake said he'll come to see it as his arm.

He hopes anyway.

Still, that's a long way off because he's still healing from the ordeal.

Graham turns from the window and shuffles back towards his bed before deciding that, even if he can't go outside, he'd very much like to have a walk around. Jake said he should move around more. He slips on his hospital slippers and makes his way towards his door, exiting it and glancing down the corridors.

Where did Jake say it was?

Oh, why didn't he pay attention to that? With a groan, he makes his way towards the reception desk of the Gywnne Holford Ward. The woman behind the desk looks surprised to see him. "Mr O'Brien?"

Graham likes her. She doesn't stare. "Jake said there was a therapy room," He begins. "I wasn't listening to where he said it was."

"Usually you're scheduled into them-"

"I know, that much I did listen to," Graham interjects. "But I just wanted to see what it was like before Jake sorts it out for me," He says in a gentler tone. "And there's only so much TOWIE I can take if I'm honest."

The woman chuckles at that. "Not a fan?"

"Oh, no," Graham gives a slight smile in return. "Seeing Essex is great 'cos I'm an Essex lad myself, but the people? I've seen jellyfish with more brain cells, and that's the truth."

It really is the truth 'cos the Doc had to get one of the blighters off his damn leg.

"Right," The woman rolls her eyes. "Come on; I'll show you there-"

"Nah, you don't have to do that, I can find it by myself, uh-" Graham squints at her name badge.

"Miranda,"

"Ta," Graham says. "Graham-"

"I know."

"Oh yeah, right, 'course you would know," Graham goes to rub the back of his head, frowning when it doesn't register. "Wrong arm-"

"What?"

"Nothing," Graham mutters as he raises his right arm to rub at the nape of his neck. "I was just saying that you would know my name, 'cos you've seen my ugly mug around here for the last few weeks."

"It's a nice mug-" 

Graham blinks at her, and she smiles back. He reddens for two reasons. One, he's absolutely hopeless with this sort of stuff, and two, she likes him enough to counteract his comment even with the missing arm. "Thanks," He replies dumbly. "I mean-"

She laughs again. "The gym, you wanted to know where it was?"

"Yeah," Graham nods. "As I said you can just point me in the direction, and I'll find it-"

"I don't mind-"

"It's fine," Graham reassures her with a smile. "You probably got a lot of stuff to do, my wife was a nurse in the NHS, so I know how much you guys have to do 'round here."

"Okay," Miranda accepts. "Just follow the corridor down to your right and take the right at the end, you'll see the signs then and you can't miss it."

"Right, then a right," Graham nods in understanding. "Got it, ta."

Graham shuffles off from the reception. He takes careful steps, each one having pinpoint accuracy because the last thing he wants to do is make his nose any more flatter than it already is. He really doesn't have much faith in his right arm to catch him if he does fall.

"Right," Graham mutters when he reaches the end of the corridor. "Then a right," He turns down the corridor and spots the signs that Miranda mentioned. He gets to the therapy room and looks in, eyes flicking across everything before he steps inside.

"Oh-" Graham faces the voice that spoke. Young woman, all arms and legs accounted for. "-I'm pretty sure we didn't have-"

"I'm just having a look," Graham interrupts. "Jake said that he would sort out the physical therapy for me, but I just wanted to have a look."

"I see," The woman looks relieved for a moment. "Jake mentioned a new patient; you must be Mr O'Brien?"

"Graham will do fine."

"Graham, then," She smiles. "I'm Hannah."

Graham nods at that. Maybe she's worked with enough people to know that sticking your arm out for a handshake with a current one-arm man isn't a good thing. "Jake ran through a few things with me, taught me some stuff I could do in my room, but he also said I needed to move around."

"Jake is good like that," Hannah responds with a slight smile. "He knows how we work here," Graham frowns at her, puzzled. "Probably shouldn't say, but I doubt he'll mind all that much, he used to be a patient here like you are."

"Oh," Graham mumbles. "Guess that makes sense what with his leg and all," He connects the dots as he steps further into the room. "This it?"

Hannah glances around the room and nods. "Yup, got it all kitted out, we can do a lot here."

"Yeah," Graham murmurs. "I doubt I'll be running anytime soon-" He nods towards the treadmills. "-it's strange to walk as it is."

"With prosthetics, you might find it a lot easier."

Graham hums in response. "The Doc- I mean, my niece, she's good with building things, said she'll look into making me something-" Hannah looks baffled by that and Graham has the sudden feeling that he needs to explain. "She's good at robot stuff."

"Robot stuff?"

"Uh," Graham flounders on the spot. "You know, at universities, like they build things, testing stuff, um-"

"Oh," Hannah nods. "My girlfriend, she's doing something similar," She smiles brightly. "So is your niece working with prosthetics?"

"Well, she wasn't," Graham admits with the truth. "But she said she'd figure something out and I have faith she will 'cos she's brilliant, truly, she is."

"You sound really proud of her," Hannah states.

Graham returns the smile. "Spose I am, she's a good kid-" Well, she's hardly a kid Graham thinks quickly. "-Yeah, I'm proud of her." He looks around the gym once more. "What will I be doing in here?"

"Well, I'm not sure who will get assigned to me, but I suppose I could put in a word if you wanted me as your physical therapist."

"You can do that?"

"We're building a relationship already," Hannah points out. "If I show you around now then I won't have to do it when we meet up and you, well, you get a choice as well."

"Choice," Graham nods. "That's an important thing," He looks away. "For us, me, I mean, um, like Jake as well, we didn't get a choice in it."

"No, you didn't," Hannah answers. "Hey, I can show you how to use the treadmill if you want, it'll help with your balance."

Graham nods, relieved in the change of conversation. He follows Hannah and listens to what she's saying about the equipment available. He offers questions every now and then, simple ones.

Yeah, he likes Hannah. She's kind as well.

But he should be getting back to his room now judging by the rumbling in his stomach and the tiredness in his legs. Hannah lets him go with a smile and promise that she'll pull some strings behind the scenes, something Graham is grateful for. He's had to learn many names and faces over these last few weeks that having someone he already knows assigned to him might be a good thing.

As soon as he's back in his room, he kicks off the hospital slippers and begins the slow job of climbing onto the bed. It was a lot trickier when he first tried it, but he's getting there now, and he feels the relief as soon as he's settled down.

Graham reaches for the remote and flicks the television on, rolling his eyes when TOWIE is still on. He switches the channel over to Tipping Point. Good, that'll give him something to moan about when Ryan shows his face again.

'I don't get it, son, why don't they just press the damn button, all this malarky for a two pence machine-'

He smiles at that because Ryan will smile. They can pretend that everything is the same, only this time they're sat in a hospital room in London instead of their living room in Sheffield.

Ah, Sheffield.

Graham misses Sheffield, and he misses his mates, but he's scared to tell them, scared about their reactions, he's just-

He's scared.

He doesn't want to be treated differently by them, but in his heart, he knows he will regardless if he has a prosthetic arm or not. He's changed, and he's changed for the entire world to see.

Graham looks at his phone, his untouched phone that was switched to silent over a week ago now. Maybe Ryan has spoken to them because he's pretty sure they would've rung the lad.

He reaches for the phone and unlocks it, guilt piling upon him once again at the notifications from Gabe, Freddy, and everyone else now.

Great, and he's even missed messages from Yaz. He sighs and phones her, putting it on loudspeaker and muting the television while it dials out.

"Graham!?"

"Yaz," Graham relaxes when she answers. "I missed your messages-"

"It's fine,"

"Nah, it ain't," Graham retorts with a frown that she can't see. "You've been worried, and I've been sulking-"

"I wouldn't say you've been sulking, Graham," Yaz voices concern over the line. "I never expected you to reply, don't feel like you had to-"

"Yeah, but-"

"But nothing," Yaz interrupts. "Seriously."

"Ryan said you got put on a caution," Graham mentions. "Hope they weren't too harsh on you, cockle."

"It was fair, Graham," Yaz replies tightly on the other end. "But I doubt I'm gonna be allowed to go on any more sabbaticals anymore-"

"Oh, right," Graham settles himself back against his pillow. "Yeah," He mumbles in a low tone. "About that."

"Graham?"

"Eh?"

"You're really quiet," Yaz points out. "What did you say?"

"Oh, nothing-"

"Graham," Yaz voice comes through the line in a tone that tells Graham she won't let this go. "What's the matter?"

"Can't see how I can go on trips anymore," Graham explains. "With all the running we do, and well, I can't really run, it just wouldn't be fair on you two-" Or safe. Just look what happened to me Graham finishes the thought in his head. "Maybe we should-"

"What?"

"I dunno-"

"Graham, please-"

"Look, just pretend I never said anything, all right?"

"Wait-" Yaz sighs across the line. "Tell me, please?"

"Yaz-"

"Graham, we're family-"

"Fine," Graham relents. "I don't know how safe it is for any of us to go travelling anymore," He blurts out in a rapid tone. "The last thing I want to happen if for you two to get hurt like I have or worse, dead, and we don't know what's through those doors when we step out."

"You're scared."

"Of course, I'm bloody scared!" Graham snaps, instantly regretting it the moment it happens. "I'm sorry-"

"No, Graham," Yaz's voice is forcibly neutral on the other end. "Don't be sorry."

"Just forget I called, I don't want Ryan or the Doc to know- just, I'll see you back in Sheffield, all right?"

There is a pause on the other end of the line, and for a moment Graham assumes Yaz is gone. He wouldn't blame her if she were.

"I'm scared as well," Yaz mumbles on the line.

"Yaz?"

"I thought you were going to die," She continues. "I thought Ryan would lose someone else, that I would lose someone, and it would be our fault because we didn't take you to a hospital."

"I'm not dead."

"But you nearly died, Graham," Yaz drives the point home. "You have every right to be scared because I'm scared, my mum has been on at me for the last few weeks, demanding to know what that was all about," Her breath is rapid. "Sonya is terrified again, my dad was furious for all the wrong reasons, blaming my work for putting me out like that, but I couldn't tell them why or what happened."

"They don't know?"

"No," Yaz answers. "No one knows what happened, I have had your friends stopping me in the street to ask what has happened to you, your neighbours wondering where you and Ryan are when I go round to help sort out things with Aaron-"

Graham stares ahead, guilt increasing tenfold. "I need to tell them," He admits to himself. "I'm sorry you had to deal with it, it was never your job-"

"I'll take it, Graham," Yaz says across the line. "Family looks after each other," She exhales. "I have to go; my mum is hassling me again-"

"Right,"

"I'll message you, okay?"

"Yeah, sure," Graham nods. "See ya, cockle."

"Bye,"

Graham hears the cut off to the call, and he looks upwards. "Idiot, Graham, you're a great big selfish idiot!"

He grabs his phone again and finds Gabe's number, this time deciding to phone it. "Come on, answer, Gabe, bloody-"

"Graham?" Gabe's relieved voice calls out. "You've had us really worried mate, especially after those texts-"

"Yeah," Graham replies in a harsh tone. "Look, I'm just gonna say it 'cos if I don't just say it then I ain't gonna say it-"

"What is going on, Gray?"

Graham clenches his right hand and takes in a deep breath. "I lost my arm."

"What?"

"My arm, Gabe," Graham says. "Lost it, it's gone, that's why I'm in London-"

"Graham, this ain't funny-"

"I ain't pissing about here, Gabe," Graham interjects. "I've lost my arm."

Pause.

Silence.

"Fuck," Gabe finally says. "How?"

"That's a long story," Graham replies. "A really long story."

"And I have time, mate," Gabe promises. "We've been worried so much for you; we thought that your cancer came back-"

"I said it didn't-"

"I know, but we thought you lied, but you didn't," Gabe explains. "You lost your arm instead," He says. "That explains somethings, but not everything, mate, you got a lot to tell us because you don't just lose an arm for no reason, Gray."

"Yeah, I suspect I do," Graham nods. "I'll start from the beginning then."


End file.
